


Processing

by mswyrr



Category: The Orville (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 17:12:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18014999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mswyrr/pseuds/mswyrr
Summary: Claire and Isaac's first real conversation post-Identity Part 2.





	Processing

Things are quiet for a while. They all need some time. Claire would give anything to make Ty’s nightmares stop, but she knows he’s healing. The counselor he’s been speaking to over the vid line is encouraging.

Claire’s own counselor, Marta, is a small woman with short cropped grey hair and warm brown eyes that crinkle up in beautiful laugh lines when she smiles. Claire went through two others before she found someone she could really talk to about the whole alien robot _Romeo and Juliet_ angle of things. 

The first two had jumped right in, assuming she would be traumatized by the devious Kaylon’s romantic manipulations. Claire felt humiliated and angry at the way they saw things: like she was some kind of dupe and Isaac a robo-Mata Hari, softening her up for information with his seductive wiles.

How could she admit to someone like that the reality of who had actually seduced whom? Or how she still felt for him?

Well, screw them and their prejudices. Whatever else he’d done, Isaac had given up everything to do the right thing in the end. She had no reason to be ashamed of loving someone like that. 

Marta let her talk about it like it was any relationship that had hit a rough spot. That helped.

Meanwhile, Isaac himself had all but disappeared. He did his assigned tasks and then was gone before you could even start to talk. That was fine when no one wanted to talk to him, but as the weeks passed it started feeling–to Claire, at least–like he was a sorrowful ghost haunting their halls. Fading away before she could reach out.

Then he showed up one day, right in front of her desk, and said: “I have not been able to report my observations for five weeks and three days.”

Claire blinked at him.

“I hope my presence does not upset you, doctor,” he said. “I will leave if you wish.”

She’d missed his voice. Sighing, Claire shook her head. “No, that’s okay. But I need you to explain what you’re talking about. Is something wrong with your systems?”

She really needed to pick his brain about how he worked at some point, so she could be a doctor to him if he needed it, even if she couldn’t be anything else. She could still remember how much it hurt seeing him shut down, all the life and curiosity she loved turned off like a light. Unable to do anything for him. The one person on the _Orville_ she couldn’t heal.

“Thank you, doctor,” he said. There was a long, warm moment when he just looked at her, seeming to soak her presence in. Then he spoke: “I am designed to take in observations, categorize and analyze them, and then send data packets back to my home world. This is the structure of my systems. It aids my own integration of data. I cannot continue sending these packets to your enemies, however. Is there anyone in the Union who would find my observations useful?” 

As he spoke, the graceful little movements he usually made with his arms and head as he spoke stilled and his speech grew clipped, more rapid than usual. 

Claire wondered if this was him getting upset.

“You have no one to send your data,” Claire said, testing the idea out. Poking around at it. 

“Yes,” he said. “Optimally, my observations would be of use to their recipients. However, I believe even a storage archive would suffice.”

Were the Kaylon all part of each other in this way? Perhaps constant communication, giving and receiving data, was an essential part of what made Isaac’s experience of consciousness. Losing that could be like a human experiencing a brain injury: cut off from the healthy flow of neurons and synapses.

Claire heart ached for him. If that was true, perhaps he had _wanted_ to die with the others, rather than be cut off from part of himself. It might have been a cruelty to bring him back.

Beneath the technical specifics, she could hear what he was saying in that way she always had of understanding him. He was saying _I don’t have anyone to talk to_.

What were her own long conversations with Marta but sharing “observations” to aid “data integration,” just for a human mind? 

Claire stood: “If I’m understanding you correctly, this is a serious medical need. I’ll speak to the captain about getting you access to an archive to store and communicate with.” She walked around the desk, approaching him. “We’re going to take care of you, I promise.”

The rigidity of his posture eased, the little motions of his arms and curious cant of his head returning. “Thank you, doctor,” he said, in apparent relief. After a moment, he continued: “Is this part of the human practice of forgiveness we discussed? I have downloaded all available data on this custom but I have been unable to estimate our trajectory within it or the most likely outcomes.” He tilted his head, looking at her. “Are you aware that none of the available literature specifies a timeline for this custom?”

Oh, boy. How to explain?

“It’s not something you can really predict like that, Isaac.” Claire bit her lip and then tried out the comparison she’d just come up with: “We process our data too, you know? But there’s no standard time frame. Organic brains don’t work like that.”

“That seems remarkably inefficient,” he said in that blunt but not unkindly meant way of his. 

Claire shrugged. “Take it up with Mother Nature.”

Isaac’s fingers twitched as he considered that. “You speak of the personification of natural selection on your planet.”

“Yep.”

“Unfortunately, I do not believe she is available to talk.” 

Back when they were dating, a topic like this could become several long, pleasurable hours of conversation. Often ending up in bed and a different kind of intercourse. He was so curious and thoughtful. So engaged with everything. She found him wonderful to talk to. It was tempting, to sink back into the warmth of that. There was no one else whose companionship made her feel so happy. 

But her organic data processing just wasn’t there yet. 

“It’s my duty to take care of everyone on this vessel and we will make sure you have what you need, no matter what. I promise you that. But forgiveness is…” she reached out her hand, touched his forearm and then withdrew it, “it’s in progress. But I need time, all right?” She raised her hand, “And before you ask, no, I can’t tell you how much time exactly. I’ve just got to feel it out. I know it’s hard to wait.”

“Baring unforeseen damage to my systems, I will be functional for the rest of your natural lifespan. I have, as your people say, all the time in the world.” He extended his own hand shyly, brushing her arm with his fingertips and then withdrawing it just as quickly. “I am honored that you have chosen to engage in this custom with me, Claire.”

More than anything, Claire wanted to take him in her arms. Hug the life out of him. But her processing wasn’t quite ready for that, either. Instead she said: “There is no one I would rather engage in it with. Now, let’s go see about getting you a nice Union database to talk to, all right?


End file.
